


Confessions: Christmas Lights

by SaintDionysus



Series: Confessions [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, F/M, Home for Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 15:53:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8923261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintDionysus/pseuds/SaintDionysus
Summary: Confessions: Memories and MoreA companion collection to Confessions of mini-stories featuring flashbacks and secondary characters.Draco comes home for Christmas holidays during his seventh year. With the Ministry and Hogwarts taken over by Voldemort’s followers, muggle-borns are in hiding.This story is a stand-alone piece, but there are references to chapter two from Confessions. I hope you get a chance to read it if you aren’t already.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Confessions](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8143739) by [SaintDionysus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintDionysus/pseuds/SaintDionysus). 



> Warnings: Teenage boy angst, immaturity, and self-love. Death of minor character.
> 
> Songs that inspired the chapter:  
> Christmas Lights by Coldplay

## December 1997

 

The ride home for the holidays on the Hogwarts Express is eerily quiet. Draco Malfoy almost longs for the sounds of annoying first years and prank wars being waged between carriages. With over a quarter of the student body not attending this year because of the Muggle-born Registration Act, the school just felt empty. He never thought we would miss having mudbloods around—well there is one in particular that he especially misses, and she would slap him clear across the face if she ever heard him call her that appalling slur. Her ferocity is one of those things he admires most about her. She isn’t afraid of much—she’s taken on a troll, a basilisk, dementors, and even faced off against Death Eaters including his father. The one thing she is afraid of—is him, and the one moment they shared last year.

 

Draco can almost taste the mix of her sweet kiss mixed with salty tears. Neither of them was prepared for what they felt. What started as a stolen moment between curious teenagers unlocked the truth—they wanted each other but were too scared of being together because the worlds they belonged to would never allow it. After she pleaded with him to erase her memory of the kiss, he reluctantly granted her wish. To this day, she still has no idea what happened or how often he has thought about her and that moment.

 

He has been absentmindedly staring in his book pretending to read, but the truth was, he was staring at a newspaper clipping with her face. The caption read:

  


_Hermione Jean Granger_

_Mudblood and Known Associate of Undesirable No. 1, Harry Potter_

_Age: 18 | Height: 5’5 | Hair: Ash Brown Color and Curly | Complexion: Fair_

_Warning: Incredibly Dangerous. High level magical competency._

 

He strokes his finger over her picture and wishes he had a real photograph and not newsprint. It was a rather recent one, and she looked quite beautiful as it was taken during Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour’s wedding. Their photographer was accosted by ministry officials and was forced to relinquish photographs of all the guests. As the Ministry had suspected, most of the Order of the Phoenix was in attendance.   
  
The train is slowing as they approach London. Draco looks down at the letter his mother sent him prior to leaving the school. It reads:

 

_Dearest Draco,_

 

_I am so sorry that I will not be able to welcome you at the station. Our house guests need attending to. The elves have been busy decorating in preparation for your arrival. Also, our guest of honor is also quite keen on having a proper Christmas as he hasn’t had one since his days at Hogwarts. Thought I would let you know._

 

_Almost forgot, you will have two escorts bring you back to the Manor. Before you go on about how you know how to apparate, just know that the extra protection was a suggestion by your beloved aunt._

 

_See you soon, my darling boy._

 

_Love,_

_Mummy_

 

Over the past year, Narcissa has become skilled in writing letters in code to Draco. He mutters snarkily under her breath, “This will be the best Christmas ever.” He takes the letter between his fingers and ignites it. In Advanced Charms, they have been working on wandless magic, and this is the only thing he has been able to master—pyromania and destruction. Appropriate.

 

Draco says his goodbyes to his housemates as he arrives on the platform. His escorts aren’t hard to spot; they are lumbering giants with expressions that were a mix of idiocy and hatred with a dash of constipation. He walks up to them and rolls his eyes. “You must be my escorts. Take these.” Draco very presumptively shoves his school bag into one oaf’s hands and the handle of his trunk to the other.

 

The two men look at him dumbfounded; maybe it is because Draco carries the same arrogance and look of his father that the similarities are shocking, or they lack complete mental capacity.

 

Thoroughly annoyed, Draco asks, “You are here to pick up Draco Malfoy to be escorted back to Malfoy Manor, correct?” The men nod in confirmation. “Then let’s go.”

 

Once out of King’s Cross, the men all apparate to Draco’s home, which is currently housing his parents, demented aunt, The Dark Lord, and miscellaneous followers. The riffraff that joins up the cause isn't just aristocratic pure-bloods. Many are very poor, uneducated, and clearly lacking in skills. These would-be-acolytes believe muggle-borns are stealing all the magic and that is what attests to their ineptitude as wizards. The truth is, the Dark Lord only keeps them around to become his pawns. They will never receive their marks or allowed into the inner circle.

 

The manor looks warm, cozy and beautiful—it almost looks like ‘home,' Draco thinks to himself. The elves have added swags of green garland and holly wreaths with big red bows and gold and silver baubles to the front entrance. The decorations are all magicked with tiny twinkling, fireproof candles. There was something about seeing the green and silver so perfectly paired with the red and gold that warms his otherwise apathetic heart.

 

When he walks through the door, his mother runs to him and gives him a long, tight embrace. Narcissa is trying to fight back her tears while she holds her only child’s face in her hands. Draco can’t help but be embarrassed, but he can guess that his presence does warrant some celebration. His mother had no one to talk to except sadists whose only topic of conversation is bloodlust. “Oh, my Draco. How I have missed you so. Your father has missed you too, but he shows it in his own way.” She snaps her fingers, and two elves show up. Draco doesn’t recognize them and assumes they are a new purchase to help deal with all the ‘houseguests.’ “Bobbin, Spindle, this is Master Draco, my son. You will address him as such. Bring his things to his room. It was prepared for his arrival I presume?”

 

“Yes, Mistress Malfoy. Fresh sheets are on his bed, and a vase of white roses and a bowl of green apples are already on his desk,” Bobbin, the taller of the two elves addresses their mistress. He then turns toward the young heir, “Dinner will be ready shortly, but would you like anything before then, Master Draco?”

 

“A pitcher of water in my room would be fine, and please draw a bath. The journey has been exhausting, and I would like to relax a bit before dinner.” He addresses the elf with a bit more politeness than his mother.

 

“Very well, we will prepare everything. Mistress Malfoy. Master Draco.” Bobbin acknowledges the mother and son before he and Spindle disapparate to handle their duties.

 

Narcissa takes her son by the hand and leads him to the stairs toward the drawing room, “Draco, you must tell me about school. How are you enjoying it with Severus at the helm? Are your duties as Head Boy cumbersome?”

 

“It’s about the same, Mother. It’s school. It’s homework. I have duties, and I’m around the same stupid people,” this topic of conversation bores Draco to tears. Most things do these days.

 

“Not all the same stupid people. No more mudbloods or Harry Potter at the school.”

 

“Yeah, I guess.”

 

“What about Pansy? Any chance the two of you will get back together.”

 

“Oh, Merlin. Not this again. No. I will never get back together with Pansy. There is a reason I broke up with her last year. She’s so clingy and needy. Ugh.” His skin begins to crawl thinking about her high pitched crying when he dumped her. Then there were the weeks of stalking him through the halls and the common room. Though, he is guilty of taking advantage of her “no strings attached” propositions. They seem like good ideas at the time—especially when his frustration is high—but the encounters always end badly. Pansy’s hope builds back up, and the quest for reconciliation begins all over again.

 

“Fine, I’ll stop prying into your love life. What would you like for Christmas?” Narcissa tries to change the subject quickly to keep her son’s demeanor pleasant or at least as pleasant as it is going to be under these conditions.

 

Draco did not hesitate with his answer and lays it on thick, “How about a normal childhood and a house without mass murderers? Oh and to not get tortured or have my life threatened again. Can you pick that up at Diagon Alley or is it more of a Knockturn Alley thing?”

 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy. Enough of the insubordination and sullen teenage antics. You know how important this family is to the cause.” Narcissa is almost to the point of slapping her child across the face for his apparent disrespect.

 

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, “I’m going to take a bath. Tell father I’ll see him at dinner.” He quickly runs up the stairs so he can escape to the safety of his room.

 

The heavy wooden door with its ornate Rococo carvings is slammed shut. The room is about the size of his dormitory but without the other beds and has a private bath. As he takes off his shoes, cloak, and tie, one of the new elves walks out of the bathroom. “You. Spindle, is it?”

 

“Yes, Master Draco. What can I help you with?” The elf cowers as he’s not quite sure if Draco is as cruel as his parents.

 

The young master can see the fear in the elf’s eyes. After being someone else’s servant for the past year and a half, he has become much more sympathetic to the elves. Living in constant fear is miserable. Draco relaxes his demeanor and politely asks, “Spindle, could you please fetch me any copies of the Daily Prophet that no one is currently reading? Also, please tell my mother and father I am feeling poorly and will be taking dinner in my room. I would truly appreciate it.”

 

Spindle smiles and responds, “Anything for my Master Draco.”

 

Just like that, with a bit of kindness, Draco realizes that elf is now completely loyal to him.

 

Draco strips the rest of his clothes off and slides into the bath surrounded by bubbles and relaxing aromatics. The hot water soothes and relaxes his tight muscles. Privacy is a luxury he misses immensely while at school—you can’t even wank in peace without it feeling like a circle jerk. No amount of silencing and disillusionment charms can change the fact you know you are sharing a room with four other guys who are polishing their knobs at the same time. After the flashbacks of the sounds of his roommates self-pleasure utterly disgust him, an angelic vision makes its way forward. He knows it is a memory but what happened is so unbelievable, it feels more like a fantasy. Well, he is in the bath trying to relax—might as well do it properly—and begins to stroke himself.

 

Draco's mind wanders back to Granger. With the gentlest of care, she let her fingers comb through his hair as his head lay in her lap. Oh, and the goose pimples that formed on her skin as run his hand down her body! Then he kissed her abdomen and grabbed her breast. Yes, it actually happened. The scene replays in his head over and over, among other visions and fantasies of her, until he has satisfied himself.

 

“Guess I need to shower now,” a much more relaxed Draco says to himself. The tub drains away the perfumed water laced with Draco's “stress” while he finishes washing up in the shower.

 

Thankful once again for the privacy, he doesn't bother getting dressed and just walks around in his bathrobe taking in his bedroom. He decides then and there, the rest of his Christmas holiday will be either locked up in this room, or outside flying. He enjoys seeing the bouquet of flowers and fruit in his room. They are a nice sign of freshness and life in an otherwise foreboding home. His new elf hasn't returned and wonders where his newspapers are.

 

“Spindle?” Draco calls for the elf, and he returns with a stack that is roughly a foot high. “Well done! You can just leave those on the desk. Thank you.”

 

“I am glad you are pleased, sir. I will be on my way. Are you ready for me to bring up your dinner?” the elf asks proudly, knowing that his new master appreciates his work.

 

“Yes, please. Also, don't tell mother or father, but I would love if you could sneak me up a bottle of whiskey. It can be Bourbon, Scotch, Irish, Canadian, or even Firewhiskey. I'm not terribly picky. Also, if we have some chocolate biscuits, could you bring those up, too?” Draco is testing the elf’s loyalty and see how far he can push.

 

“Well, the young master is of legal Wizarding age. I don't see why not,” the elf is eager to please his new master and is beginning to understand that there could be a mutual benefit to their newfound bond.

 

“Wait. One last thing. Could you please decorate my mantle tomorrow with some holly and baubles?” Draco walks around his dimly lit room while throwing and catching an apple, “I think this room could use some Christmas Cheer, don't you?”

 

“I would be delighted to, Master Draco,” the elf excitedly claps his hands.

 

Draco, remembering something very valuable Professor Snape had taught him, says, “Also, don’t forget to include lots of mistletoe in the decorations.”

 

“Is the young master expecting a special visitor?” Spindle says with a bit of suggestion.

 

He sighs wishing that was the case, “Quite the contrary. Mistletoe is a werewolf repellent if you catch my drift.”

 

“I understand completely. When no one is looking, I will also paint mistletoe sap to the back of your door. It is my honor to make sure my young master stays safe.” says Spindle. The young man and his servant acknowledge each other with a nod, “I'll be back with your dinner and your special requests.”

 

“Thank you, Spindle. You are a wonderful house elf,” an idea begins to formulate in Draco’s mind, “I will tell my parents that I intend to make you my personal servant. Would that be alright for you?”

 

“It would be an honor, sir,” the elf bows deeply and disapparates.

 

The large stack of papers awaits. “ _Accio articles about Hermione Granger_ ” with a flick of his wand, the papers start sorting themselves, and the specific pages fold themselves at his feet. He picks them up and spreads them across his bed and reads the headlines out loud, “ _Reward. Missing. Dangerous. Still at large. Board of Governors launches investigation to discredit Miss Granger’s time at Hogwarts. Missing. Reward increase._ Good. She hasn’t been caught.” He sighs with relief and now knows what he wants for Christmas—to know that she is alive and safe.

 

—xoxox—

 

The next few days leading up to Christmas are quiet. The Dark Lord is on a mission and hasn’t been back to the Manor the entire time Draco has been home, much to his relief. His daily routine includes the following: taking breakfast with his family, flying most of the day, reading in the greenhouse that is on the other side of the manor grounds, and poring over his newspaper clippings. A deep trust between Spindle and himself is growing. His parents didn’t mind handing ownership of the elf over to their son, especially when Draco asked for Spindle to be his Christmas gift. He is about to task his personal elf with something that could be potentially dangerous, but wants to be sure of his dedication and loyalty first. Draco, unlike his parents, understands the magic elves possess and actually read one of Granger’s silly pamphlets. If anyone could find her for him, it would be Spindle.

 

—xoxox—

 

It is Christmas Eve, and the festive decorations in his room are putting Draco in the mood to celebrate. He especially is enjoying all the twinkling lights. It is almost time to head down for dinner but must finish this letter first.

 

 _HG,_ _  
_ _I know you must be in complete shock to meet my elf. Spindle is very dear and loyal to me, and I have taken great care to protect him from my family, unlike what happened to Dobby._ _  
_ _  
_ _There is no ill will or malicious intent in this letter. All I wish is to know that you are well, safe, and hidden. You don’t need to tell me of your whereabouts. I fear if a reply with details, were to be intercepted, it could put you in great danger. Spindle’s confirmation of your well-being will be enough._ _  
_ _  
_ _I apologize for the brevity of this letter. There is much I want to say, but the contents of this vial will tell you everything. I don’t know if you will have access to a penseive, but please try to find one._ _  
_ _  
_ _Merry Christmas,_   
DM

  
Draco folds the letter and stuffs it in the envelope. Hidden amongst the mess on his desk are the photos of her concealed in a journal. He flips through them until enough emotion wells in his chest to form tears. A delicate glass vial awaits to receive his memories. He holds it in his left hand as he inserts the cork.   
  
A searing pain shoots down his arm, and he drops the vial, shattering it into a million pieces. His mark has gone dark black. Dread comes over him knowing what this could mean. Lucius Malfoy dramatically swings his son’s door open and practically screams, “The Dark Lord has returned and is furious. Potter and his mudblood have escaped once again. Son, I’m also sorry to say, The Dark Lord killed your Christmas present as he entered the house. Mother and I will purchase you a new one. Come downstairs as soon as you can.” With the same over-the-top flourish Lucius had when he entered the room, he departs.   
  
With that, Draco tosses the letter and the journal of clippings into the fire. He laments the loss of his one ally in the house, but he received his Christmas wish—Hermione Granger is alive and fighting.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading. Please feel free to leave me a review or send me a message on Tumblr: [harrypotterandthegobletofwine](http://harrypotterandthegobletofwine.tumblr.com) or Facebook: [saintdionysuswriter](http://facebook.com/saintdionysuswriter)


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